Impaired
by MsCookieBits
Summary: "There's something off about him." The notorious Shadow the Hedgehog has come to terms with his past and lives a tranquil life, developing a strong bond with Amy Rose. But the Doctor still has scientific interests with the hedgehog. In hopes of deciphering Shadow's true potential, he experiments with his brain, reawakening a dark, sadistic side of Shadow that has laid dormant.
1. Prologue

_** Disclaimer: All characters belong to SEGA**_

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_**Prologue::**_

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I watched in horror of the macabre scene in front of my eyes.

Shadow's focused grimace etched up into a coy, twitching smirk. His body began to tremble and his crimson eyes glossed over. Splatters of blood painted his face, continuous globs springing forth on his pale complexion.

The Doctor's body was slack against the ground, pale as death, but Shadow's motions were relentless. The Doctor was long gone, but he never let up the stabbing; Shadow's hand, dark and drenched with gore. He stabbed aimlessly now, no longer striking the head or the heart. His breathing grew labored and shallow, falling deeper into oblivion. Echoes of the vile sounds of rippling skin and blood dripping on the metallic ground resonated off the walls.

I stood still—afraid that if I moved he would come for me next. It was best to steer clear when he reduced to this; the monster that caved into blood lust. His grin was demented and his eyes screamed the obvious; murder.

He startled me when he began to chuckle to himself, a quiet hum in the back of his throat. He seemed unaware of my presence, lost in his high.

"Is this what you wanted from me? Is this what you wanted me to become?" He growled, breathless. The Doctor's defiled corpse did not respond. Although I was wishing he would.

I took this opportunity to turn away from the mania. I could feel the bile coming up with each upcoming stroke of his knife. Every time I blinked, I saw the Doctor's unresponsive corpse and envisioned his killer's deranged laughter. The mental image was now plastered to the back of eyelids, and the terrific sounds would never succumb. I turned my body in a slight angle—my legs trembled and I shivered goose bumps. I took a breath to calm myself and held it in. Trying to escape from the madness, I shuddered when my boot clicked against the hard floor.

One sound was all it took for him to clench up and stand. He dropped the bloody blade and watched, in contemplation, as it panged against sodden floor, skewed with the Doctor's guts and blood. He chuckled again and wiped his dripping hands on the legs of his pants as if he tried to compose himself. His body moved in my direction but did not attempt to come closer. Carefully his eyes met mine, irises dark and deep—potent.

"What a mess I've made," His glance darted back to his kill. He smirked again as if satisfied with his work. "But it was worth it."

I couldn't move.

I couldn't breathe.

He snuck a look at me, and sighed. His face was devoid of emotion, grim and lost.

"Are you going to leave now, after all that as transpired between us? Are you so keen as to run away from me?" His voice was quiet, skeptical.

I tried to speak, my words lost and jumbled in my mind; I couldn't make sense of anything. I opened my mouth, and then closed it. I swallowed down the taste of vomit rising up and scalding my throat.

His eyes grew to life, multiple emotions reflecting his madness, before the most expressive of them, anger, sprung to the surface.

"Am I so disgusting to you now? Are you afraid of me? Speak!" He took a step my way and his face clouded over in sadistic intentions.

"I-I don't k-know." I squeaked. The sudden change of his personalities were difficult to keep up with; I did not know how to respond to each shift.

He sneered at me and then snickered. "The enthusiastic Amy, trumped?" He took another step, but I did not dare move. His movements grew dark and lethal; his face, still splattered with blood, began to convulse.

"I did this all for you," He grumbled. "Now that the Doctor is gone, nothing can break the bond between us."

I stared at him in disbelief. This wasn't like him. I've watched, in the utmost antipathy, as he murdered someone and watched, in the utmost dread, how he _enjoyed_ doing it.

"Don't talk like that," I finally spoke up. "Even if he deserved it, this is not like you. You would never kill someone." I spoke slow and cautious, afraid that if I let too much out it would rouse his irritation.

"How do you know that? You don't know anything about me," he snarled. His words; he didn't mean them, it was the monster talking. But I couldn't help the sickening jolt in my gut that told me the possibility that I never meant anything to him all along.

"I know more about you than you think," I persisted. "And I know that _you_ would never do this." I pointed to the dead Doctor to bring my point across. "You're just confused."

He chuckled low in his throat as he stalked toward me. My trembling and distraught green eyes ran over his body. His glowering eyes never left mine and with each step that he took I shuddered in anticipation, fearing but longing to reach out for him. To touch his soul as he has touched mine.

He needs to be saved. He needs to be replenished from his cursed past that once again has come back to torture his mind and warp his psyche.

Standing face to face in the chilled lab, windows opened to the most fragile parts of our mind. We seemed more intimately connected than we have ever been at this moment.

"Confused am I? We both know that it goes deeper than that." He added. I agreed.

"Then let me help you," My quivering hand reached up to touch him, achingly, to make him understand that he does not have to deal with the trauma alone. Again, I'm always reaching out, but can never get inside, where he needs help the most.

And like so many times before, he refuses my help.

He growled before snatching my wrist and seizing it in his hand. I couldn't resist him; his grip was like a steel trap.

"How can you help me? Get inside my head Amy, and experience all I have lived through and suffered." The hot, muggy breath that I loved fanned across my face, but I ignored the growing temptation to submit to him. His eyes glazed up and down my body, and I watched how the they simmered down to small, dying embers, calming the fire.

I've unselfishly avowed that I will do anything in my power to rescue him. To drown out the monster that wants to make him come undone; the monster that threatens to destroy his happiness and sanity.

"I will help you Shadow, I promise I will save you. Things will go back to the way they were, _we_ will go back to the way we were. I will show you that I can."

His grip loosened on my wrist. His masculine form over me slacked down until his lips were next to mine. I could taste his breath and smell his scent; driving my senses mad and sent my legs quivering.

He kept his eyes open, watching and drinking in my reactions to him. His lips dragged along mine, debating whether to seal them. I stood on my toes, eager to taste him. Our lips brushed for only a moment before he pulled back.

He reclined and brought his lips to my hair instead. He sighed deeply, distressed and agonized; he rumbled with deep bass in my ear, "Then show me."

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_** A/N: That was long for a prologue. This story experiments with the psychological aspects of the ShadAmy relationship, so don't expect happy, fluffy content. The story will go much more into depth with Shadow's character. I hoped this prologue sparked your interest, I want to take a different approach than the cliche, cutesy-cuddly stories I see much too often in ShadAmy stories.:sweatdrop:**_


	2. Chapter 1: Tensions

_** Disclaimer: All characters belong to SEGA**_

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_**Chapter** **1: Tensions**_

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"Do you really have to come here on my work hours _every day_? There are other coffee shops that would just _love_ to hear your new intellect, Ultimate Life form!" I huff in disapproval.

But I would be lying through my teeth if I said I didn't enjoy his company—or just a tick of his clock actually. He's been so busy at G.U.N. that I hardly get to spend a breath of time with him.

He rolled his eyes, then "_hmphed"_ in amusement.

The sun peeking out from the grey clouds shone through the windows of Cream's café, the rays made the droplets on the showered daffodils that lined across the window ledges sparkle like diluted rainbows. The aroma of fresh cookies and buttered- up cakes wafted around the air vents, seducing customers into buying treats and goodies to satisfy their sweet tooth.

It was funny to know that Shadow had a sweet tooth too; often stopping by in the late hours of the bakery after work to sample leftover chocolates and caramel.

Shadow sat at his usual spot at the bar in the café.

… Third seat down from the front door, across from the mahogany dining table with a chipped leg.

Glancing back down to his hot chocolate latte, he swirls the marshmallows with his straw, seemingly more interested in the contents of his drink than my sarcastic rebuttals. I eye him some, and secretly marvel how the air of the restaurant electrified and _changed_ when in his presence.

Shadow carries himself in high dignity, proud and bold, unaffected with past burdens and nightmares; washed in a new sense of stability and warmth. He is morphing into society—doing his part as an élite agent of G.U.N., waking up at seven every morning to go to work, and stopping by in the afternoon for a quick cup of coffee. He has his moments of charm and intellect. But he was still mysterious as the moon, intense and addicting. Curious as I am, I want to get to _know_ him.

I want to know his dreams and ideals.

I want to know his views of humanism and hear his profound voice daily in my ears.

I want to know what he yearns for, what he desires, what he looks forward to.

… I want to know what makes him happy.

And I feel, with each passing afternoon, my curiosity deepening into something more. Time and time again, I find myself lost in the smolders of his gazes, and spellbound by the deep monotonous, sensuality of his voice when he speaks to me.

"You never stop to humor me Amy. That is why I enjoy coming to _this_ coffee shop," He smirks—cocky and arrogant as that blue jerk of a hedgehog.

My cheeks puff up, fuming and red-hot. I interject, "Oh you are such a jerk sometimes! Do you purposely try to tick me off!?" I cross my arms in a huff and blow a stray strand of my hair away, which slipped from my bun.

"Not particularly, usually, you overreact to inquisitions and I find your reactions amusing." Shadow close his eyes in triumph. He brings his straw back to his lips, a smirk still playing at the edges.

There he goes again.

"Smartass," I mutter under my breath.

I forgot that I had a job to do and I was losing my professionalism at work when Shadow comes around, but I like how I become undone when I'm around him. I feel more at ease. I want to escape from mundane life; I want to go on adventures and harrowing missions like he can. Attraction to his die-hard lifestyle grew and grew within me for years, I'm tired of this domesticated life I'm living. Yearning for something more, I envy him for that, dangerous missions are better than sitting hopeless and helpless at home every evening. Crumbles of desserts layer the countertop of the bar and I, with haste, wipe it down with a tablecloth I pull from the pocket of my apron.

I was kept on the clock at work this week, staying late in the wee hours of the morning hoping for tips. Fortunately for me, my shift ends in an a few minutes—then I could settle in my apartment and get some rest. I sigh and begin to pick specks of lint off my knitted gloves.

Shadow looks up from his drink, eyeballing me up and down with concern. He purse his lips and sigh too.

"Long shift today?" He ask. I couldn't help but notice his voice, it sounds _off_. His tone is hoarse, unreeling. I quickly look at him, blush, but then look back down at my fingers, twisting them nervously.

"Yeah, but what can I do? I have to get the extra money somehow. You know how slow business has been this month," I rub the back of my neck in exasperation. "What about you? How are things at G.U.N.?"

He shrug his shoulders drudgingly, "It's been an off day, to put it in simple terms."

"Why is that?"

"It just was," He hums.

Shadow massages the left side of his temple and sigh to himself. Flexing his fingers on the side of his latte, fingering the edges of the top of the mug, he brings his flawless lips back to the straw.

But his eyes seem _different_.

He's severed from reality, lost in his rumination.

I drop the subject, not wanting to add-on to the awkward tension to the situation. I glaze my eyes on his visage, and notice how his body was slack and sluggish.

He's exhausted; the irises of his eyes are a smothered, dull red-orange and his movements were slow, delayed. He finishes his drink, push the mug to me, turn around so his back was facing away from me, then lean back in his stool, the backs of his elbows resting on the corners of the counter— he close his eyes and the cleft in his brow clench, making his grimace more prominent. I quickly wash out his mug in the sink behind me; I scrub the sides and rinse it out, then settle it on a tray next to the sink.

The television in the corner of the ceiling buzz with static, before flicking back on to the current news channel.

**"Make sure you keep your umbrellas on hand because we are expecting thunderstorms later this evening. The showers earlier this morning were just a taste of the thunder clouds moving in from the north—" **The news reporter rambled on.

Customers are filing out by the hour. I watch as a chubby, hazel-eyed human youngster stuff the rest of her chocolate cake into her gullet, crumbs creeping out from behind her pursed mouth and yank her jacket on, her face smeared with fudge frosting. She eyes the glazed doughnuts in their designating glass container a few feet away, her eyes sparkling. She shoots a glance at her mother, and points a chubby finger at the container; clearly unwilling to leave and eager for more. She motions for another goody, but her mother is not having anything of that; her wristwatch is ticking. Her mother stood, and impatiently clacking her heels against the hard wood floor, face not amused and anxious. The girl studies her mother's body language, groans, and wipes away the fudge with the back of her sleeve. Shoulders slumped; she follows her mother out into the darkening parking lot.

I would find this situation funny if it wasn't for my the dry mood.

"Good thing I'm ending soon, it would stink if I got caught in a storm," I smile, trying to lighten the mood. "I walked to work today."

He suddenly shoots a look at me, immerse and questioning. "You _walked_ to work today? Is something wrong with your car? I would've driven you this morning."

"It's fine. I just thought it was a nice day and I saved money for gas—"

"—I will drive you home."

I blink and sweatdrop; he summed it up like it was an order!

Shadow has a knack of taking things out of context; he's always been way too protective of me since we became closer than acquaintances eleven years ago. To an extent, I find his concerns flattering but somewhat binding, like I was still a child to him.

He stands up, walks over to the coat rack, and then maneuver his jacket on his broad, masculine shoulders. I look up at the clock above the café doors, and watch in contentment, as the digital numbers flickered to the new hour.

I sigh in relief and scratch an itch on my cheek.

In the corner of my eye, I catch Shadow staring—our eyes meet for a moment; I search for signs of reassurance in his ruby irises.

I don't like what I see. Something was too intense about them.

I throw him a smile that I had difficulty to muster. But my effort was pointless; he broke our eye contact in a split second and looks the other way. Like always, he's cutting it short with me.

…And that hurt me more than it should.

"So are you ready to go?" He searches for his car keys in his pocket, pulling them out as they jingled in his palm. He took a step toward the door and stared out into the parking lot, seemingly lost in the array of vehicles.

"Okay just hold on for a sec, I have to sign out—"

He was out the door in an instant.

I tilt my head and watch in suspicion, as he walks out to the parking lot. In disbelief, I was more expectant of a different reception. Normally he would have waited for me to grab my things before stepping out, but now he seemed more than ardent in leaving.

I rush to the staff closet and lock the door behind me. I eagerly untie my apron from around my waist, and then I pull on my jacket and wrapped my scarf around my neck with a bit of struggle due to my nervousness.

As I push through the staff closet and walk out into the open, I saw that Cream was ordering for a few stragglers at their table. She glances at me, wave, and then mouths goodbye. I wink back at her, with a tender grin, and I wrap my fingers around the handle to the doors. Cream could hold the rest of the fort for the evening. I push through the glass doors into the chill of the city streets.

* * *

The sky is dismal and the air is muggy. Jeeps and minivans slosh and skid through the avenues; some occasionally would lurch and sheer on the wet roads, tires screeching.

I scan the parking lot; the drizzle of rain blurring my eyesight and I squint through the downpour searching for Shadow's car—or most importantly, a trace of _Shadow_.

"C'mon Amy," I hear his gruff voice coming from my right, tone impatient.

I dart my head to the direction of his voice. He is leaning against the driver side of his car, twirling the ring of his key chain around his index finger. I hurry to his car and slide in the passenger seat, closing the door behind me.

The digital numbers on the dashboard glow green in the dark of his car. He sticks his keys in the ignition, and the engine hum to life. He leans forward to the dashboard, and turn on the heater to a low but snug temperature.

I relax back into the seat, thankful I didn't have to tread on the busy sidewalks. I let loose the ribbon in my hair, curls and tangled ringlets bouncing and streaming down my back. I run my fingers through the knots and shake out the droplets of chill clinging to the strands. Despite the rain, people are still pushing and shoving through the overcrowded sidewalks, persistent to get home.

And with my clumsiness, I would have been the one _getting_ pushed and shoved.

"Is this warm enough for you?" Shadow asks.

"Yep," I remark, giving him a kind smile. "I really appreciate it, thank you."

"You don't have to thank me, Amy."

"I'm still inclined to do so."

Shadow push the shift gear back in reverse, inspecting the lot from the back windshield. When he begins to pull off, straining his neck to look behind through the back window, I can't help the flush of cherry on my cheeks when his dominating hand rests on the back of my headrest, to get a better view of the surroundings.

All is quiet in the car, but I can feel a looming storm.

* * *

_**Eggman's Secret Base**_

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A pissed hand slapped a hunk of mechanical rubbish off a metallic table. It clunked on the ground, exploding into fragments of bits and pieces.

Eggman cursed, huffed, spat, and bellowed a frustrated sigh. He stomped around to calm himself before storming off to his desk to check his blueprints and procedures. Flurries of paper, marked and strewn with mathematical terms, swirled around him as he haphazardly threw them up in the air. His tired eyes, sheltered behind tinted glasses, scanned paper after paper searching for possible errors in his equations.

Failure. Loser. Idiot.

The distressful mantra ringed in his ears, racked his bones, and shattered his brain cells.

Countless years of inadequacy was taking its toll on the Doctor. He lost his pride, his dignity, his _everything_ to the jarring taunts of Sonic Team that left him battered. The conditions of his age and health in the modern time limited his means of creation and idealism, constraining to the point where he became less of a tyrannical threat to the world to a mere annoying nuisance to society.

So here he was. Bankrupt. Wavering. And reduced to twiddling his thumbs.

"Gah, what's the point?" Eggman faltered down into his desk chair, papers still littering the ground. "Just one failure on top of another, I can't even rebuild and neutralize a new Metal Sonic."

He hung his head in shame, "I'm at my end. My grandfather would never have been in this situation."

Realization struck across his face as he dumbly slapped his forehead with his palm.

"Of course! Why had I not thought about this before!? The key to my grandfather's successes was his incorporation to artificial life," Eggman shuffled through his cabinets, the purest exalt of relief was flooding through his veins—rejuvenating his stamina.

Spreading papers, files, and folders across his desk, he enthusiastically chuckled, finding a dim spark of optimism in the time of depression. But in a split second, the pulsing vein in his temple was pounding in delirium as he searched and searched for the proper document. He swore under his breath when the cabinets were defiling with still no trace of the folder Eggman sought for.

He finally reached a dust-collecting folder that was casted off a little more than a decade ago. A little tidbit of information about the creation of the Ultimate Life form he had snagged from the Space Colony. Hastily, Eggman scanned the contents of the folder, and his eyes stopped almost immediately, staring intently at the information it contained.

The Doctor's face darkened, a malicious grin stretched across his lips.

"Oh ho ho, Shadow, so there's much more about you than I initially thought."

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_** A/N: Short but simple. The pace starts slow in this chapter but drama and suspense is coming ahead... Also I wanted to point out that the prologue takes place in the far future so don't be confused with the current time frame.**_


	3. Chapter 2: Realization

** _A/N: Sorry for the long wait, school work caught up with me. Whelp, here you go. _**

_**Disclaimer: All characters belong to SEGA**_

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_**Chapter 2: Realization**_

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It's a quiet drive.

The eastern sky is somber-colored, darkening the evening sun—blinding the light. Obscure, amorphous clouds line the upper atmosphere and the blurred visage of cars and trees pass by with each mile that flew beneath his tires. I don't dare look at Shadow, something was entirely wrong and I can feel the tension-filled radiation emanating from him, making my uneasiness churn in my stomach. I stare out my window instead; the cool condensation tickling my nose.

I choke up the will and courage to look at him. Just for a second. Without turning my head, I sneak a look out of the corner of my eye, unclear on how to approach him. Unsure how to talk to him.

His firm left hand clenches the steering wheel while his right arm relaxes on the armrest. His eyes watch the road without a flick of distraction. A practically preening sense of connection charge through my veins; my fingers are twitching, itching to reach out and brush his fingers dangling from the edge of the armrest. But I keep my hands in my lap, disciplining my yearning to curl my fingers around his. He gets so stiff and evasive when he's like this; quiet and deep in the crevices of his mind, shutting everything and _everyone _out like a blockade.

It hurts when he pulls away from me. He's done this so many times before…

Darn it, I just want to _touch_ him—spur some type of reaction in his cold, hard-set face.

…And then massage out the mean cleft in his adamant brow.

…And then trace the frowning outline of his lips with the tip of my finger.

…And then lean over and interlock our lips together in a simple, soothing kiss.

…I sit in silence, watching as his blazing eyes stare straight out at the road in front of us. His demeanor is callous and perturbing as I study the chiseled features of his face. My mouth opens, and then closes. I attempt to speak up but my words are caught in my throat and my thoughts are in a fog. I don't like this feeling of insecurity that washed over me—I never felt this way around anyone before, especially not around Sonic. Mentally scalding my fears in a boiling pot, I inwardly sigh and speak:

"Shadow, is everything alright?" I ask. My voice sounds diffident; weak and unconvincing.

_I never sound like that. _

I flinch at my hesitance and shrink back into my seat, all attempts of bravery gone out the window.

"Yeah," He said, voice controlled.

"You don't seem okay," I persist. "Talk to me, you're always shutting me out."

He looks over to me without moving his head a fraction in my direction, eyes glazing over in silent rejection.

"It's just been a long day that's all." Shadow shifts his eyes forward to the windshield, but I can't tell if he is watching the road or not. He sounds exhausted, but I know there is more troubling him, there is something he's not telling me.

"What are you thinking about?"

He shrugs his shoulders passively.

"You'll feel better if you express your thoughts to someone else than keeping them bottled up inside," I beam. "That's what I do to get weight off my chest."

Shadow's frown deepens and his response comes immediately and without benevolence, "Well not everyone is _you_, Amy." His tone is strikingly harsh.

Taken aback and hurt; anger is seeping, boiling, and bubbling in my innards. Frustratingly, I blow out a rough and exasperated sigh, falling back into my seat and pouting like a little child who didn't get what she wanted. I sneer at the comparison and blow up:

"You know what I give up." I throw my hands in the air and let them fall back in my lap with an audible smack on my thighs. I am getting so fed up with this hedgehog—no, no he's more of a _rock_ than a hedgehog, cold and cynical.

I can feel my cheeks getting hotter and redder and _angrier _and my nerves are fuming as I reply, "Do you know what your problem is!? Huh, do you? You're difficult! I was only trying to help!" I babble angrily.

Unfazed he speaks, "While I appreciate your concerns, I don't believe my thoughts are any of your business. I don't need you prying in my head all the time."

I listen, stunned. I hold back the reflex of letting my mouth hang open in astonishment. That was it? That was all that he could say? He was quiet and I watch as his expression rise up in regret.

Nor Shadow or I have the will to apologize—that's what we have in common; our pride and stubbornness are too impregnable to admit defeat.

I bite my lip and rake my fingers through my hair to calm my nerves. Staring out in the middle of the road, I gaze at the headlights and how they illuminate the road, shining florescent sparkles on the raindrops. We should be close to my apartment by now.

The green light from the dashboard shadows over the bronze sheen of his muzzle, his lips pressed in a hard line.

"I apologize, my intentions were not to anger or offend you," His voice is very low. "I just have a lot on my mind since the Doctor's disappearance. G.U.N. has kept me on their watch. And because of my past transactions with him more than a decade ago, I think they suspect that I have something to do with his absence."

He turns to look at me with a grateful expression. I hold his crimson eyes with my own, comprehending the emotions behind their solid, yet translucent doors.

"Do you think that they will turn on you?" I probe. I am strikingly aware of the sudden seriousness of the conversation; too much is at stake if Shadow wants to live a normal lifestyle. Not every detail of Shadow's past and purpose are secured in G.U.N.'s government files, but I know the deep ties Shadow has with the Robotnik descent—I just hope G.U.N. won't connect the dots.

"There is a chance." Ill-spoken and grim, he balls his fingers into a fist on the armrest.

An uneasy wave of insecurity charges in the air and flits out between us. I can tell by how his face hardens, that he was truly worried about the outcome of these conditions. Sadly, I look down at his constricting fist, then back up to his face, trying to find some form of reassurance.

"We'll make sure that won't happen," I murmur. I place my tiny hand on top of his, warming it up and soothingly rubbing my thumb along his knuckles. "You deserve just as much happiness as anyone else."

His fingers tense and twitch. He looks down at our hands, and then back to me, guise unreadable.

"Amy, I—" He hesitates and the air turns stale and rigid. He's watching me, his scarlet eyes burn with an intensive passion that I find mesmerizing; I can't look away, not even for a second. I'm sucked in those eyes, delving and drinking in their depths. I need to rise up for air—oxygen that I need but do not want.

And just when it seems too much, right when I feel like I'm about to burst, he pulls up to the curb in front of my apartment. It began to storm heavily, the rain hammering down like pelts. I jump in my seat when a sudden strike of lightning streak in the sky—resonating a loud, crashing boom that rattles the car.

"—I'll walk you up to your apartment," He intone.

He shrugs out of his jacket and hands it to me, "Here—so you won't get your hair wet. You can drape it over your head."

…I accept without a word. Giving him a smile, I drape his jacket over my quills as he turns the engine off. I inhale a breath and shudder; his jacket smells like his cologne.

He opens his side of the door, steps out, and in quick speed is over at my door, holding it open and prompting me to step out. Like a gentleman, he reaches for my hand and pulls me out, and I grasp his hand tighter than necessary to avoid slipping on the street pavement. The rain is pounding on my backside as Shadow and I hurry to the doors to the apartment complex. Once we reach the doors, Shadow slides in first, holding it open for me. The wind began to pick up speed, swirling loose curls of my hair around in a flurry of pink and I grip the arms of his jacket tighter to save it from the storm's temper tantrum. We rush to the front door to my room and I can't help the giggle that escapes through my throat when I see Shadow's drenched form. He sneers and sniffs, wringing wet in rainwater. A mischievous spark ignites in his irises and he began to shake his dripping, spiky hair in my direction, causing me to squeal and laugh when water sprayed droplets on my face.

I search and search, through old Macy's receipts, bubble gum wrappers, and unopened utility bills in my purse to find my keys. I stab them in the keyhole once I pull them out and step inside. Shadow stalks behind me, I feel the heat coming off from his body, scalding a hole through my shirt and through my skin, sizzling my longing deeper into my pores. I go through the rounds, walking around my apartment, turning on lights, the heater, and the television.

Shadow walks in the living room with slight uncertainty, feeling totally out-of-place, but then feeling totally in place once he finds a spot on the couch and sinks down, shoulders rounded, legs parted, and masculine arms behind the couch. I chuckle to myself at the sheer normalcy I feel when he relaxes on my couch, like he's meant to be here, like he's _supposed_ to be here. On _my_ couch. In _my_ apartment.

I go to my bathroom, grabbing a fresh towel from the rack, but before I leave I take in my appearance in the mirror. I look hectic, hair clinging wildly to my face, eyes too bright, and cheeks too red. Turning on the faucet, I splash some cold water on my face, then comb through the knots and tangles in my hair. Not enough air is reaching to my lungs and I take deep breaths focusing on the sounds of the humming television glowing in the other room, but then I'm fully aware that Shadow is there—possibly waiting for me.

I take one more reassuring breath before reasserting myself to stand up straight and confidently walk out to the living room, dismissing that fact that I was practically hyperventilating in the bathroom.

As I walk in, Shadow's surfing through channels with the remote only occasionally stopping for a second more to decide whether the channel is redeemable to watch, and then flicking to a new one—uninterested.

"You can stay here till the storm calms down," I squeak out, tossing the fresh towel to him.

"Sure, if you don't mind that is," He replies, carefully, hesitantly.

I wave my hand passively in the air, "Oh please Shadow, I don't mind. It's no big deal."

But it is a big deal.

The air around us, electrified, jolts of wanting and negligence charging the electrons and protons in our bodies, uncertain on how to react to each other's energies.

I sink down in the seat next to him on the couch, crossing my legs and picking lint off my gloves, ignoring the sight of him and the _smell_ of him. I can feel him watching, unadulterated fervor practically emanating from his pores. I watch the television, stationed to a nightly talk show, but the sound is mute to deaf ears, and all I can focus on is the sound of his light breathing. My heart is frenzied into palpitations, pounding and rattling my ribcage, which I'm sure he can hear. He shifts his weight on the couch till he is facing me; I turn my head to him and watch his eyes watching mine.

Oh God, he's so _serious_ and _passionate_. I don't think I can handle much more of his complexity.

I gulp down the spit accumulating in my mouth. He leans in closer but hesitantly, testing the waters. I couldn't ignore the urges to lean in closer too; to experience all he has to offer.

"Sh-Shadow?" My lips worry his name.

"How do you cope with it?" He asks suddenly but his voice is low, rumbling with deep bass that make my nerves jitter. His lips pursed and eyes open, yearning—like a child eager to learn a new lesson, wanting to be filled with knowledge.

I blink, "Cope with what, Shadow?" He wasn't making any sense.

Impatiently, he rounds his head to the ground, trying to search for words. His ruddy eyes scan the carpet before trailing up my body: my feet, thighs, belly, neck, lips, and then my eyes. His eyes are hooded, in a way I would call seductive, and I cross my legs together, smoldering the heat traveling up my body. He sucks in a breath, his chest fur puffing out of his polo in the process, and then blows it out through his nostrils.

"…With the feeling of insecurity."

I tilt my head in disbelief. I'm put off by his choice of words; never thinking a sentence like that would ever leave his mouth.

Shadow?

_Insecure? _

But I approach earnestly: "Well," I begin.

"It all depends on where the insecurity is emanating from, I guess. It could come from the body, mind, or spirit and at any time. But you can't let weakness deter you from your goals. Instead, see it as a way to learn a little more about yourself, it sinks into that mantra of finding methods to improve ways of personal enhancement and how you view yourself as a genuine person."

I notice how tasteless my speech is; I could be boring him. But he continues to stare, undistracted and intensive. The lighting from the television ghosts over his irises, warm and flaring like a campsite fire.

I smile a bit and continue, "You should know when your insecurities take form, and then you'll be able to handle the feelings once you acknowledge them."

I learned this the hard way, throughout my teenage years, when I was stupid, naïve, and foolish.

He hums in contemplation. He stares down his hands in his lap, flexing his knuckles and fingers, an expression of uncertainty flits across his face. I take his hands in mine, marveling their strong structure. I lock my eyes with his, and his are startled…

Scared.

"If there is anything you need to talk about, you can always come to me. I hope you know that," I murmur with more intensity than necessary.

I want him to understand. He should not be afraid to tell me his feelings. It's—it's just…

"… We've been through so much together; I don't want to lose you again."

"Amy, I'm not going anywhere." His voice is firm but his hands are shivering in mine. He hesitates, "I just needed time." There is a hint of pain in his voice.

I turn his palm over and study the geometric outlines of his hands through the gloves. "I can give you time, Shadow. Just talk to me. Please?"

He nods and pulls his hands away, turning his head toward the television.

Dismissing everything.

Dismissing _me_.

But I refuse for him to cut this short. Desperately, I touch his cheeks, bringing his face back to me. My heart hammers hard inside my chest, and I can barely contain the words that want to bubble out of me as it cracks and opens and lets so much feeling loose.

"Please—_please_ don't avoid me," I whisper.

"Amy, I won't." He brings his hands to caress my cheeks, and does so lovingly and gingerly, "I promise."

I can taste his breath on my tongue and instinctively, we lean in closer. My eyes widen, absorbing the situation, doubting but for only a second, if this is reality. Everything is muggy and my head spins in a tango. He leans in closer still, never taking his eyes away and his hands still on my face. My eyes are moving in hyper speed, darting over his eyes. And his lips.

And then he presses his lips to mine.

Everything just became so simple, yet so complicated. My body is flushed and I close my eyes to relish this moment. I am aglow with feeling and with sentiment as his warm lips move in unison with mine. I'm woozy and dizzy than any flu I've ever had.

We break away for a moment to catch our breaths, but we quickly come together again, eager to taste each other. There is a warm well of affection bubbling inside me, a feeling that has grown for years, but just sprung forth in a concentrated abundance at this escalated moment. I just can't put my finger on it.

I can feel my heart beating more rapidly, my lungs emptying and filling as if there isn't enough air in the room to fill me. This feeling blossoms inside my chest, heating it up like a hearth. I'm balancing my body and mind, and I almost completely lose it when Shadow runs his hands through the tresses of my hair.

I-I can't handle it. The swelling of my chest, the pounding delirium of my head, the heat of my arousal, everything is spinning out of control. I gasp for breath each time we break away, but I hone in on his mouth again, yearning for more. Our kisses seem never-ending, I quiver and moan when he sucks on my upper lip with a growl. I'm addicted to the taste of him, the feel of him, the smell of him, everything.

Something explodes in my chest, and I can feel it.

Love.

My lips squelch off his bottom lip and I slither my hands down from his face and to his chest. The fingers in my hair grip tighter, pulling me closer and mashing our lips harder. His husky breath fills my mouth in earnest, I want him closer to feel more of his body heat. I am overwhelmed and reeling and I am thankful that my mouth is preoccupied. So I don't yell my feelings out to the high heavens. Because all I can think in my head is that I love him.

I love him.

I love him.

_I love him. _

I love him more than I can handle. I love listening to his voice in the morning and at night when he calls. I love his beautiful mind, intelligent and cunning, but eager to learn more. I love his eyes, expressive as they are, and deep and intensive. I just simply love him, the evolving innervation welling up inside me for years has finally broke free.

My eyelids flutter. And it feels beautiful.

His hands move down my back as his kisses get hungrier; I'm engulfed in his wanting and I feverishly rub my thighs together. Eagerly, I struggle with the buttons on his shirt, determined to take it off. I pull him down with me on the couch, my ribs squeezing tightly at my chest.

The feeling of me under him must have snapped him back to his senses, because all too soon his kisses stop and he pulls away. Our breathing is labored and my eyes are in chaos, darting everywhere in a disarray.

He sits up and rearranges his shirt. With his eyes hidden from me, he stands.

"I-I'm s-sorry!" I'm nearly panicking and a heart strangling sensation runs down my chest.

His voice is tiny and so unlike him when he replies, "No, I apologize. It's getting late."

I shake my head, releasing all the fuzzy dots from my brain.

In the silence, my heart is seizing. And it's terrible.

I try to break the tension:

"I…I… Shadow, I really—"

I grow quieter with each word I try to conjure up and there is only the sound of our breathing for an agonizing moment, but when he speaks, it cracks my heart.

"I have to go."

"Okay," I say, but all I want to do is desperately beg him to stay.

He walks over to the door and opens it. Before he steps out however he murmurs, "Goodnight, Amy."

I hear the click of the door and he's gone. I speak to the air.

"Goodnight Shadow."

I hang my head in my hands and silently add, "I l-love you."

* * *

_**A/N: Hope you enjoyed. Again, I'll try to update as often as I can. Thank you for your patience. **_


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